


A Family You Make

by Junkrat-Junkie (JunkratJunkie), JunkratJunkie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Industrial Revolution, Amputation, Canon-Typical Violence, Disembowelment, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Non-descriptive country, Racism, Slow burn perhaps, gangster au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-10 00:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8919034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JunkratJunkie/pseuds/Junkrat-Junkie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JunkratJunkie/pseuds/JunkratJunkie
Summary: Jamison was an orphan who couldn't get a break in life. Mako is an immigrant who was exploited for others' greed. With their brain and brawn combined, do they have what it takes to become the next crimelords?





	1. Where We Start

**Author's Note:**

> Finally getting this posted. Hope you all enjoy it. I was inspired by Dishonored, actually, so we'll see how this goes. Sort of making it up as I go.

“I’m telling ya, this is going to be a beautiful partnership! I can feel it in me bones!” Jamison exclaimed with a trailing giggle.

Both men wandered around the old dusty building, examining the property they had just recently purchased. It was old, long abandoned by the previous owner who had ended up in the poor house. It suited their needs just perfectly.

Their needs being a new place to start up a totally legitimate business. At least on the surface.

Jamison Fawkes grew up a little street urchin, scorned by a city that neither wanted or cared for him. He spent a few years in an orphanage, but it was shut down for lack of funds. No one had wanted him after that, so like many of the other displaced children, he turned to the gangs for a new family.

That didn't last forever either, and now he was kicking it on his own. Or rather, used to be.

His new business partner is Mako Rutledge. Having been displaced from his own home, the only way he could make a living was by joining the circus. He was labeled the exotic strong man and he gained much attention from the civilians as they traveled from city to town.

But when you're quiet and nowhere close to home, people tend to try and take advantage of you.

The Ringmaster was a cruel man and didn't think highly of those who didn't agree with his own twisted morals. Mako had refused to be the one to deal out a punishment to a clown caught stealing food. So he was punished instead. Only, it never seemed enough.

Then Jamison came along and told him about a grand idea he had, wanting to get back at the city who ruined his life. It seemed crazy, but pretty well thought out. It was as if the plan had been brewing in his mind since the day he could write proper words on paper.

With his freedom already forfeit, how could Mako turn down this opportunity? Jamison assured him that while they might have very different roles in the business, they would stay partners and split the profits fifty-fifty. A better offer than anyone else had, and if things went pear shaped, he would still be a free man.

And so here they were, with the bare bones minimum to starting a business. Jamison told Mako about some of his plans, but it occurred to him that they didn't have anything to offer as far as business went.

Lucky for them, the building came cheap. Not cheap enough, but they weren't in debt just yet.

“What are we doing?” Mako asked suddenly. His voice made Jamison visibly jump, not used to hearing his partner speak up still.

He played it off with another giggle. “Well, I'm pretty good at putting things together.” It was like he could really tell what was on Mako's mind. “Figured I could make some things and sell them. Maybe do some mechanical repairs. Once we make some steady money, we can hire some blokes to help out.”

Mako didn't have the hands or dexterity for tinkering. He came into this provide some muscle. The business would be a cover. Jamison had bigger plans for making money and getting back at those who abandoned him.

The only problem was that it was just them. They didn't have any support or other muscle. For now, it was fine. Jamison already had a plan for that as well.

“We'll hire some blokes cheap! Give ‘em some labor ta do and pay them for it. Eventually we'll pick out the useful and the loyal.”

Oh yeah, Jamison's plan. He wanted to be the biggest, baddest, most respected gang leader in the city. The only problem was he didn't have a gang.

But he did have Mako.

“For now, let's get some shut eye. Let's go upstairs!” Jamison grinned to Mako as he raced noisily up the steps.

He was enthusiastic, that much was certain.

Slowly, Mako made his way up the creaky steps to look for his... partner. It was still weird to think about. Being a business partner. Definitely not where he thought he would end up in life, that much was for sure.

“There's loads of room up here!”

Mako followed after Jamison's voice that carried from a room down the hall. In an instant, his face was in the doorway, beaming up at Mako. “Go ahead and pick a room, big guy! You get one all yourself!” And with that, Jamison ducked into the room he'd apparently already claimed for himself. The largest of the rooms, Mako noted.

Every room was totally bare aside from the cobwebs in nearly every corner. The building was long abandoned and needed some serious cleaning. Mako started coughing just thinking about it and pulled out his handkerchief to cover his mouth and nose.

He settled on the room across from Jamison's. Not because it was large enough, but because it would give him the best position to actually do his job. He was still hired muscle after all. Hired to make sure Jamison stayed alive to take care of the business. Even now, the skinny prick’s words echoed in his head.

“We're gonna pretend to work for some other bloke. Some big shot stranger looking to partner up with other businesses, right? You play the part of the bodyguard. You just gotta be yourself, look all intimidating. And me? I'm the clerk. I answer to the the head honcho, do most of his business where people can see. In time, we'll be respected by everyone. Bloody legends!”

And that was the plan. Hole up here and try to work things out. Either Jamison didn't have the details planned out, or he wasn't sharing them. Maybe he thought so little of Mako that Jamison thought he couldn't comprehend the whole plan.

No, he couldn't think like that. He had to trust Jamison.

Leaning up against the wall next to the door, Mako slid down against it until he sat. Nowhere better to turn in for the night, since there was no beds. Well, there had been worse places to get some shuteye.


	2. Like A Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamison has a run-in with an old friend, and Mako plays catch and release.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally forgot to mention this, but it's sorta like an industrial age setting. No defined country.

Within a few days, they had gathered plenty of useful scrap. Mako called it trash, but Jamison saw potential in each item he grabbed out of the dirt. Even the rusty springs had use! Just needed the right touch. And a blacksmith didn't hurt. 

Lucky for them, there were plenty of old men with skilled hands and not enough work. Jamison couldn't treat metal, but he damn well could put it together. 

Somethings he picked up from his younger years: how to steal, how to lie, and how to get by. Two of those were easier than the third. Stealing comes naturally to everyone. No man ain't too saintly to not get a little greedy once in awhile. Everyone wants something that someone else has. 

Lying went along with it. You get caught, you lie. Friend gets caught, you lie some more. Unless you're trying to throw them under the bus. Then you tell an even bigger lie that gets them arrested and gets your arse some points with the watchmen. Never would do that to a business partner, though. That was just downright lowly. 

“Do you ever stop babbling?” 

Jamison jumped when he heard the snarl behind him, turning around to face Mako. “Oh, was I saying all that out loud? Sorry, cobber!” Scampering out of reach seemed like a good move. 

He didn't like to admit it, but Jamison had wrecked his head with booze a while back. Not just something from a flask you just picked out of some bloke’s pocket, either. Some real strong brew made for lighting shit up more than getting a buzz. It was a full on bender, and Jamison lost track of a whole month of his life after. 

After he had his wits again, the gang he ran with ended up running him out. They made sure he'd be alright, but apparently he'd done something real bad. Told him he'd lose more than just a month if he ever came back again. 

And it just so happened that they were his first choice to find help. “They're real great people! Not like one 'a them groups that has just men or just women. Like - uh… I can't remember their names, but there's a couple like that!

“As I was saying, everyone’s got a skill and a use. The more ya work, the better the pay. You don't work, you don't get a cut.”

Jamison learned that lesson early on. Mostly worked as bait first, then moved up to picking pockets, and eventually learning a trade. I was good at stealing from rich folks, but tinkering has been me true passion.

The growl from behind told Jamison that his inner thoughts became outer again. “Sorry, mate! Won't happen again!” Neither of them believed that lie for a second.

After a few more moments of walking and chattering, Jamison realized that he'd walked them to a different part of town all together. “Oops. Guess I took us the long way around.” His grin did little to soothe the annoyance clear on Mako's face. 

“You got a lot of nerve showing up back here, Rat.”

Spinning around and dropping half his load, Jamison saw a woman step out of an alley, playing with a knife in her hands. She had a kind of filthy on her that took weeks or months to get. Clothes were over-worn and tattered. No shoes.

Mako tensed up, but made no move for now.

“Izzat Bess? Hey, Bess! Ya look great!” Jamison set the rest of his scrap down in the street before opening his arms wide like he expected a hug.

The woman sneered, eyeing them both but not stepping too close. “It's Beth,” she spat, agitated about the mix up and probably seeing Jamison here as well. “Boss told ya not to come 'round these parts no more.”

Jamison dropped his arms, hands slapping against his sides. “Yeah, well, I wanted ta show my new friend around. If it's gonna be trouble, we'll step off.” His grin never faltered.

With a flick of the wrist, Beth tossed her blade up in the air and caught the handle firmly. “You know it doesn't work like that. Gotta tell the boss what I seen. He's not gonna be happy unless I bring back a piece 'a ya.”

That was Mako's cue to step in. Jamison's smile didn't even waver as he heard the huge armful of scrap get dropped behind him, heavy footsteps coming forward to move past him at Beth.

“Little problem with that, Beth. If ya can't talk, ya can't tell him nothing.”

The fear he saw in her eyes was delicious. Beth had been nice enough to him before, but now she was just being a cunt for no reason. She needed to learn to not pick fights with someone who held all the cards.

Mako didn't stop moving forward, slowly lumbering towards her. He turned his head to crack his neck loudly. As far as threat displays went, Jamison was definitely a fan on that one.

Beth raised her arm threateningly. “Stay back! I'll scream!” 

It was useless. Even as she threw her little dagger, Mako simply caught it in his leather glove and tossed it aside. Didn't even leave a scratch. Jamison was momentarily distracted by the clatter of metal on the street, but his attention soon came back to his friends. Well, partner and ex co-conspirator.

“OK OK, I won't tell no one! I swear it, now tell him ta step off!”

So... this was what it was like to have power. Jamison loved it, craved more of it. “S’alright, Mako. She won't talk. I know how ta find her. Let's get home, eh?” Bending down, he scooped up his findings and helped load Mako back up. This time, Mako would lead the way home so they didn't get lost.

Only, Mako didn't see too keen on moving far. He was just looking back at the alleyway Beth went down. Jamison stared for a moment too, but the silence never lasted. “Don't trust her? Good. Let's go find her.”

With a grunt that sounded close to agreement, Mako took off running ahead. He sure was quick for a big fella. 

Jamison trailed behind a little, having stopped to pick up Beth's little knife along the way. But he was a good sprinter and soon caught up with Mako, keeping up pace at his side. Just one of the perks of having grown up in the street.

Catching a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye, Jamison skidded to a stop, nearly tripping on the uneven stones of the street. “There! I saw her dart down there!” he was pointing down a narrow alleyway.

What an idiot! She was heading for a dead end. 

Both men came to a stop at a brick wall in front of them, no Beth in sight. But once the looked up, they could see Beth was climbing up a pipe. Jamison threw the knife at her, but it missed and clattered against the red brick before coming down and landing in an old 2x4.

Mako wasn't letting her get away so easily, though. Both hands grabbed the base of the pipe and started pulling. It was enough to shake Beth free and send her falling straight for the ground. 

Jamison stepped back, grinning at the thought of the pretty picture she'd make on the ground when her head hit the stones. His partner had other plans, though. 

Arms out, Mako carefully caught Beth in his arms, and he wasn't about to let go. 

Beth screamed and thrashed until Mako started squeezing her. Jamison wasn't sure if it was the fear or her lungs being crushed that silenced her, but it still felt damn good to him.

Finding the knife again, Jamison picked it up and pointed it in Beth's face. “Hey hey hey, no need for that. My friend here is real shy. You're gonna upset him if we get an audience. Now, he doesn't think you're gonna keep quiet. I know that if we do something to ya, someone is gonna ask questions. What are you gonna tell 'em?”

After seeing the look in Jamison's face, Mako loosened his grip a little so Beth could breathe. 

“A miner did it! I swear it was a miner!”

Jamison shook his head. “That's not good enough, Beth,” he said, voice dripping with disappointment. “Gonna have to tell a better truth than that.”

He could see that Beth was starting to panic, which seemed reasonable, given the situation and all. 

“I'll blame it on the Skeleton Crew! Please don't kill me…”

Jamison giggled and jumped in place. This was all too good! “Perfect! You know what they do to people who cross ‘em, right? We gotta do that to you, now! Turn her around, Mako. Lemme see her belly!”

Mako grunted, but did as Jamison asked (cause he would never order around his partner). Beth was held by the arms firmly, unable to go anywhere.

Even a blind man would be able to tell how bad she was shaking.

“Now, ya know I got shaky hands, Beth, but I'm gonna try real hard to make it clean for ya. Don't wanna damage ya too much. So, I'm gonna have ta go real slow. Just try not ta wiggle, alright?” Knife in hand, Jamison squatted down and lifted up Beth's shirt. 

With all the steadiness of an alcoholic, Jamison started tracing the blade across her stomach, under her belly button. Beth gritted her teeth and tried not to yell out. Blood was already oozing from the shallow cut.

“Oops, not too straight, but oh well!” Now Jamison was being loud with his laughter, cackling like a madman. He kept making passes across Beth's stomach, over and over again, only stopping when he cut through her muscle. Didn’t want to cut too deep.

Sticking his finger in, Jamison started poking and prodding her guts, a little intestine slipping out. By now Beth was just quietly sobbing. Mako hadn't said a word. 

Finally, Jamison stood up and tossed the knife away. “There we go! Look like ya had a run in with the Skeleton Crew, cobber. Might wanna head back home and get that patched up.”

With that, Mako let her go, and Beth started limping away, holding her stomach. Blood dripped from her hand, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. 

Jamison waved his own bloody hand good-bye and beamed a grin up at Mako. His smile fell when he saw that look of angry inquiry. “What? I thought that instead of killing her, we could start up an old-fashioned gang war. If they both pick a few members off, it'll be better for us. You'll see.”

Not even bothering to go back for the scrap, Jamison and Mako walked back to their house side by side.

“Why'd you cut her like that?”

“Oh that!” Jamison had been waiting  _ ages _ to answer that. “She said the Skeleton Crew attacked her. They cut their victims open like fish and let their guts hang out. It's a right foul scene.”

Mako tilted his head to the side. He raised his hand, pointing his finger at Jamison who stopped to wonder what his partner was doing. That finger poked him in the belly and drew up to his chest. “... Like a fish.”


	3. Take A Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the night they've had, both Jamison and Mako want to get some sleep. But who sleeps covered in blood?

Looking back, Mako really regrets telling Jamison about his mistake. The idiot was wailing and howling the whole time they walked back to their house, arms full of trash. It clanked annoyingly and pressed against his skin painfully. Still, he’d deal with being buried in this junk over continuing to listen to the cries of a mad man.

“I'm a fool! A moron! Lower than a worm!” The same phrase Jamison had repeated for the fifth time now, but with just as much dismay in his tone.

If he asked Mako, which so far he hadn't, he would have told Jamison that there were worse things that made him an idiot than cutting someone's guts all wrong. And then he would proceed to tell him exactly why he was an idiot and maybe even threaten to give him a real reason to cry. But from what little Mako new about his partner so far, he figured he might take that the wrong way and cause an even bigger issue for himself.

“If you don't shut up, someone is going to come out and question us,” he growled, finally fed up with the whining. That was the last thing they needed, being seen covered in blood in the middle of the night. Not like they could claim to be butchers.

Jamison looked up at him, pouting pitifully with an expression that looked like he didn't know why Mako was mad at him. More insanity, if anything. He should know damn well why Mako would be pissed off. “Yeah, but if they did that, then you'd deal with 'em, right?”

That was true, but Mako wouldn't say as much. But with the way Jamison was grinning now, he got the feeling that he knew the answer anyway. Rotten punk. “Alright, let's get home and get to bed!” No less quiet, Jamison skipped ahead, his arm full of trash clinking along with him, old shoes clicking along the stone street.

Watching him from behind, Mako shook his head and just made sure he didn’t lose sight of the skinny fuck ahead of him. No use letting him get lost in the middle of the night again. At least he wasn’t screaming anymore.

The street lamps were burning low by the time they could see their dark home down the street. Though they’d slowly been making improvements, the structure still looked abandoned. The windows were dirty and no one could see what went on inside. It looked lonely and sad, like a man with no friends and family. Maybe that was why Mako felt drawn to it.

He wasn't much of a poet, but if Mako let his mind linger on that thought it might invoke emotions he didn't want to think about. The ghost of a past of spending time with those he cared about and watching the sunrise together. Now, all he wanted to do was get in his old creaky bed and get some sleep inside his dank, dark home.

“Ya being real quiet.” Mako was pulled out of his thoughts, reminded that he wasn’t actually alone as they came up to their new home. Jamison was giving him an almost soft look of mild concern. What a weird thing to comment on. Everyone called Mako quiet. Why would Jamison suddenly comment on it now? Had he been talking more than usual since joining up with him?

“Got something on ya mind?” Jamison suddenly bent back in what could only be an uncomfortable pose, carefully balancing his load on his chest and stomach while one hand searched for his key to open the door. It was amazing how now a single screw or washer was dropped. Based on the dread that grew on his face, Mako figured he wasn't finding the key that was no doubt left inside.

Sighing, he stepped up to Jamison's side and turned to expose his flank to his free arm. “Back pocket.” He pushed the weird thoughts away, just focusing on getting cleaned up and getting into bed finally.

With a giggle, Jamison stuffed his hand down said pocket that was presented to him. When he lingered a little too long, groping around, Mako growled a warning for him to hurry up already. It just made Jamison giggle again before finally grabbing the key to open the door. “Ya got deep pockets!” Then he straightened up to walk inside and dump his arm full of trash in the walkway. Now that it was inside, no use being careful with it, Mako supposed. He grumbled and shuffled the pile further from the door and set his own down with it. When he looked up, Jamison was walking up the stairs. “Well! Off to bed! See ya in the morning, partner.”

Was he serious? Going to bed covered in blood? That was… disgusting. Mako wasn't going to let his partner die from some kind of sickness because he was lazy. Going up after him, Mako grabbed Jamison by the back of his shirt and held him there. “Wash first,” he commanded.

Jamison looked like the impossible was being asked of him. “I just got the pipes working! There's no hot water yet!”

“You’re filthy!” Mako shouted back, gritting his teeth. “Go take a bath!” He hated yelling, but this guy was so headstrong! It drove Mako crazy. Why did he care so much? 

Right, he trusted his partner with everything to make sure this would go as planned. 

It was like a flip was switched in Jamison’s head. Where he first seemed just stubborn, now he was flailing and trying to hit Mako to get away from him. “I’m not taking a bath in freezing water! Ya can't make me!” 

Fine. If he didn't want to take a bath, there were other ways for a man to get clean. After snatching the key back, Mako grabbed Jamison by the arm and dragged him outside, locking the door behind them.

“Let me go ya bloody idiot! I said let GO!” Jamison screeched as he was dragged down the street as Mako held him in his vice grip. 

Only a couple blocks down the street, there was a man-made canal that had murky water flowing through it. Trash drifted on the surface and it stank of rot and filth. Whatever fish resided in the muddy shallows weren’t worth the effort to catch and cook. Laborers drowned themselves in the deeper parts, as Mako found out. You could learn a lot about a city just by listening to the conversations of its people. Apparently, there were routine checks of the sewers for bodies, probably bloated and half eaten by rats and fish.

Their home, like many others, used water from a different source. If Jamison didn’t want to use their clean water, then this was the next best thing. As they reached the edge of the stone walkway, Mako stopped and lifted him up high over his head. He'd give Jamison one last chance to change his mind. 

“Ya fuck! Put me down!” Apparently, Jamison didn’t get the hint.

Well, in the canal was down, so down Jamison went. He fell in with a shriek, limbs flailing. He did make quite the spectacular splash when he hit the surface. A second later, Jamison’s head came back up above the surface, gasping for air and coughing up water. It choked down any curses he had for his partner, thankfully. The blood was also washing off with his thrashing, which is just what Mako wanted. 

What he didn’t want was for the prick to start sinking like a stone.

Without moving for a moment, Mako watched the bubbles come up to the surface with no sign of that bright blond hair again. He waited a few more seconds before heaving a sigh, kicking off his shoes, and descending a nearby stone staircase to get into the water. It was probably no colder than the water at their home, but Jamison just had to be a stubborn ass. That wasn’t even the worst part of it. Nasty, slimy algae coated everything below the waterline, making the path down slick and almost dangerous. 

Finally waist-deep, Mako started feeling around for his partner. He was tall, so why had he sunk so far? And if he drowned, then the body would have floated back up by now.

Just as he was coming to realize that he'd been played, Mako heard a roar behind him as something came up out of the water and latched around his neck.

Jamison was a tall man, though not very heavy. But the combination of that weight on his back and the water knocking him off balance, Mako toppled. Nasty polluted water filled his mouth and nostrils while Jamison worked on climbing him like a goddamn animal. He pulled his hair and grabbed at his clothes. It was all random and wild like Jamison had turned feral.

Having enough of this stupid game, Mako let out a deafening roar of his own and got his footing back. He grabbed Jamison by the arms, and threw him forward over his head. This time, he didn't pretend to drown, just glaring up at Mako before spitting a nasty stream of water in his face. He looked rather pleased with himself for a moment before seeing that Mako wasn't laughing with him. Mako could move faster in the water than Jamison could and caught him again before he got far. 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!” Jamison stiffened up in Mako's grasp, hands raised in front of himself in a show of surrender. “Was just a joke, right? Some friendly wrestling.”

“Oh is that all?” They both looked to see an angry face of a man looking down at them, arms crossed. He wore a clean uniform, perfectly pressed and sharp. A man of the city guard, not looking too happy to be dealing with the both of them before the sun was out. Standing above them and darkened by the lack of light, he almost looked imposing.

Jamison, in all his brilliance, spoke up again. “Morning officer! My associate was just helping me find my pocket watch. Silly me, I dropped it right in.”

Mako sighed, rolling his eyes at the obvious lie. But it was better to play along than to get locked up. Before he could speak up, the officer raised his hand. “Get out of there before you keel over in the cold.”

Instead of just letting him go, Mako turned them so Jamison was closer to the stairs and had to walk ahead. Luckily, the skinny bastard didn’t make a fuss of that and just climbed out as he was told. And the water did its job, the blood on them was washed away or hidden under mud. Would've had a harder time explaining that away.

With both men standing before him, the officer uncrossed his arms and pointed at them in an authoritative manner that neither of them really liked. But, they were both taller than him and it was difficult to be intimidated. “There were quite a few noise complaints through the night. Seeing as it’s a rather minor offence, I’m going to let you off with a warning.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Mako noticed that Jamison seemed more than happy with that news. He made a note to ask about it later. There were more pressing matters, what with how the officer was now eyeing Jamison more closely. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Jamison snapped to attention, grinning at the officer. “Who me? Naw, we just moved here. Been less than a fortnight.”

After another long moment of looking over Jamison’s face, the officer decided that he didn’t know him after all, and shook his head dismissively. “Well stay out of trouble. I don’t want to have to come tell you two off again.”

“Ya can count on us!” Jamison gave him a mock salute before pulling Mako back down the street to their house. He begrudgingly went along to open the door and get them back indoors before things got any worse. 

The door was just barely latched when Jamison started laughing hysterically. He walked over to the stairs and sat against them, rubbing mud off his face. “What a night! First we find a nice big haul, then a run-in with an old mate, and top it all off with a good old fashioned wrestle in the mud! Oh, I haven’t had this much fun in ages… What about ya, huh?” 

“Fun? You think that was fun?” Mako stomped over to Jamison, glaring down at him. “You had me toting your trash, you messed up a simple tactic, and then you nearly got us arrested.” Even as he was fuming with rage, Jamison’s smirk didn’t fade.

“And?” He actually had the balls to ask that question.

Mako heaved a heavy sigh before continuing, “And… I suppose it was a little... fun.” Defeated, Mako sat next to Jamison on the steps, even if it wasn’t particularly comfortable.

And Jamison just grinned at him, another bout of laughter threatening to boil over again. Only this time, Mako started them off, belly jiggling as he threw his head back to howl with laughter. That was all it took for Jamison to get going again. So they sat there, laughing over the night they just had. Maybe he was just exhausted, or maybe that really was the most fun that Mako had in long time. It certainly wasn’t the worst night he’d ever experienced in his life. 

When their laughter died down, Mako stood up again and started climbing the steps. “Need to wash this off. You should do the same.”

Jamison tilted his head back so he was looking up at Mako, but upside down. “Sure. Need any help? Could wash your back for ya.”

The strange offer made Mako give pause for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he should accept or not. Part of him wondered if it was a trick to stab him in the back suddenly, in a literal sense. “Alright,” he made up his mind. “Grab your change of clothes.” Going back up the stairs, he could hear Jamison getting back up and racing up the steps. Mako had just reached the top when the skinny fuck pushed past to get to his room in a hurry. 

Shaking his head, Mako just made his way into the bathroom to fill the tub up. It was too small for him to have a real bath, but he was used to it. He could stand in the water and get washed off, even if it was a little exhausting to have to bend over so much. Maybe having Jamison help would make it easier, not that he expected a full bath from the man.

As the water filled up the old porcelain bathtub, Mako gathered the sponge and soap from the counter, both of which he needed to convince Jamison to buy. Setting them in arms reach, Mako stripped of his dirty clothes and stepped into the cold water. At least it was clean and clear, unlike the canal. He just got to washing his arms when Jamison walked in, holding his change of clothes.

He stood there for a moment, just staring at Mako as he washed. After an awkward pause, Mako cleared his throat and said, “You can come in.”

With a nervous laugh, Jamison stepped in and shut the door behind himself, moving to set his clothes next to the sink. “Don’t mean to stare. Just a little surreal to see ya like this.” After rolling up his sleeves, Jamison held out his hand to Mako.

After forfeiting the sponge, Mako turned his back to Jamison and pulled his long hair over his shoulder. There was no knife or other blade that pierced his shoulder blades, just the sting of the cool touch of the soiled sponge. For all of Jamison's crazy quirks and mannerisms, he could slow down when he wanted to.

His touch stayed gentle as he wiped off the mud and silt from the canal, quiet with focus. That's when Mako remembered his remark from earlier. “You said I was quiet. What did you mean?”

The calm didn't last. Jamison jumped when Mako spoke and dropped the sponge. “Huh? Oh, ya seemed like ya had somethin on ya mind. That's all I meant.” Then he kneeled down to grab the sponge again.

Mako considered that observation for a moment. Yeah, he had been thinking about something else at the time. He moved to turn and look at Jamison, realizing all too late that it would put his partner right at eye level with his groin as he was knelt down. They both froze up for a moment, Mako looking down and Jamison looking up. Seeing how his face lit up red, Mako was pretty sure his suspicions from before weren’t unfound.

Jamison snatched up the sponge and snapped back up, nervous grin plastered across his face. “Need anymore help?”

Usually he was so touchy, not bothering with Mako’s personal space. Now? He looked like he was trying to make himself small and take up as little space as he could, standing near Mako, but ready to move away if he thought he might get a smack. It might be fun to tease him a little after the kind of day they had. But, with what little mercy Mako had left inside him, he held out his hand and said, “No, I can take care of the rest.”

With a high pitched giggle, Jamison relinquished the sponge and turned to walk back out of the bathroom. “I’ll just wait out here.” And with that, he shut the door with a click. 

Mako sighed and shook his head. He hoped this wasn’t going to be an issue, but expectations weren’t too high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, this took too long for my to finish. Sorry guys. I really want to push these out more frequently. I'm pretty happy with it now, though, and I hope you are too!


	4. Unexpected Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some exposition, a bath, a break in, and accident?

This city, where Jamison Fawkes had grown up and learned everything he knew, it wasn’t unlike most other cities. It had all the castes that any respectable city should; The upper crust, living in their comfortable, wealthy towers, locked away from the lower rabble. Next came the middle class, tucked away in their safe and modest homes after a hard day’s work. The lower class came after, their hovels cold and dank for the sickly families that hardly got by. They all had their place and role to play to make up the specimen that was a thriving city.

But that was just on the surface. There were also those who were not usually seen under the foot of even the poorest citizen. Hidden away, but not hard to find. All one had to do was follow the rats.

And one usually didn’t venture too deeply into the sewers of a city. It held all the waste and filth of those above that most didn’t dare consider. Humans made an awful lot of waste of many types. Those of respectable society would prefer to pretend that it didn’t exist. Out of sight, out of mind.

But the Rat King and his brood thrived in it. 

Deep inside was his throne of filth. It was hard to tell where the trash ended and the man began. His face was masked under his hood, but his black eyes would occasionally catch light. The reflexion was haunting.

The entirety of his royal cloak was quilted rat hide, sewn with bone needles from the very creatures who made the sacrifice for their king. Though he was highly revered as their royal leader, many human pups and adolescents found comfort in their giant nest around him. They would find any place near his soft pelt to get comfortable and warm.

Besides his cloak, the King’s most prized possession was his red crown. Age and moisture transformed it into something new, and it no longer resembled the masterpiece of craftsmanship it once was. Somehow, it didn’t crumble into dust, and many in the nest wondered how. Some said it was fake, and others claimed magic. The King heard all the whispers, but made no comment. Some pups would even ask him outright.

But he would only chuckle and tell them to go back to sleep. He knew in his heart that it would happen one day, when he too would expire and become a part of the filth. The crown was his to take with him to the grave.

Beth stumbled down onto her knees, clutching her bleeding stomach at his feet. “Your Majesty…” Her voice was weak and strained. 

The pups had scattered away when she’d come close, watching from a distance. A couple brave ones ventured closer to investigate after it was clear that she wouldn’t likely lash out.

Still planted to his throne, the Rat King extended his long clawed hand towards Beth to beacon her to stand. “What happened to you?”

It was a struggle for Beth to stay conscious, much less to stand. But this was her King, and she would obey. Blood splattered the ground and her feet as she swayed where she now stood in front of her King. The sight of her gaping wound and exposed intestine scared the curious pups away further away, but the King remained unmoved. He knew that she would not die of infection. Beth lived here her whole life, link so many of them before her, and like so many after. “Who did this to you?”

Though she was in great pain, there was a fire in Beth’s eyes. “Skeleton Crew.”

“Which ones?” It seemed strange that the Skeleton Crew would just attack like that, unprovoked.

“Hard to say. A veteran and a newbie.”

The King let out a thoughtful hum before dismissing Beth to go be patched up before she died at his feet. No use losing one of their own just yet, and she wouldn't say anything else. 

His brood was dirty, not stupid. It was clear that Beth knew who it was that harmed her, but she wouldn't say who. It certainly was not the Skeleton Crew, though.

Then the was the cryptic mention of a veteran and a newbie. That could mean one or two people. One seemed likely, and the King had a feeling he knew who. 

 

Oh, he certainly was a bloody idiot. What was he thinking, going in there and making a fool of himself?

Jamison sat outside the bathroom door, pulling at his hair and cursing himself yet again. Why couldn't he forget this like he forgot everything else? Then again, why would he want to forget what he saw with his own two eyes? Mako, in all his naked glory…

Lost in thought, he didn't even notice that Mako was stepping out of the washroom, clean and happy (or as happy as he could get) once more. It was the deep grunt that brought Jamison back into the moment. “Oh! All done? Guess it's my turn now.”

“Need some help?” Mako asked with a huff. 

Jamison laughed nervously and ran his hand through his wild hair. “Always, mate.” The look Mako gave him told Jamison that wasn’t the kind of answer he was supposed to give. “Uh, no no. No, I’m fine.”

Clothes already inside, all he had to go in and wash up. Just for good measure, Jamison locked the door behind himself. Mako seemed a little too invested in his hygiene for some reason, and the last thing he wanted was to be walked in on. He didn’t even move away from the door until he heard heavy footsteps leading away.

The tub was cleaned out after Mako’s use of it, so Jamison filled it up with a little clean water and disrobed in the meantime. Dirty clothes forgotten on the floor, he stepped into the chilly water and tried to get as clean as he could as fast as he could. By the time he was finished, Jamison was shivering in his old towel, trying to dry off and get dressed before catching a cold. 

On his way to his room, Jamison stopped by Mako’s room to peek inside. He could just make out the silhouette of his partner asleep in his bed, framed gently by the light of the moon that shone through the curtainless windows. There was even the temptation to climb in with him and share all that body warmth, but Jamison restrained himself. Mostly because he didn’t want to get socked in the face. 

Instead, he went to his own room and climbed into his cold, lonely bed. He had to get a good night’s sleep before getting to work on more house repairs in the morning.

Unfortunately, rest did not come so easily or for as long as desired. Mako was up bright and early, pounding on Jamison's door. 

After the second round of hand hammering, Jamison groaned in frustration and threw his hard pillow at the door. “I'm up!”

It seemed to be enough to appease his hulking partner in leaving him alone for now since he could hear his heavy footfalls leading away. Closing his eyes, Jamison counted the steps down to the first floor, 15 in total. He was about to nod off again, but a booming “JAMISON” got him shooting out of bed.

Mako had gotten a kettle of coffee started for them on the stove, two metal mugs on the table. Before it was done brewing, Jamison went out to collect the morning news, courtesy of the neighbors. Mako was pouring their cups as he walked back inside, slapping the newspaper down. 

“Probably nothing interesting today. Was too quiet last night,” he giggled. That earned Jamison a snort from his partner, who picked up the paper and his mug to sit and read.

Satisfied enough with that amount of acknowledgement, Jamison downed his coffee and got to work on moving all of his scrap to the basement so he could finish working on the pipes. After a few trips, he got busy.

It was easy for him to tune everything out while he worked. Jamison thought he heard something going on upstairs, but was far too invested in what he was doing to really care enough to pull himself away. There was just something cathartic about working with your hands.

Hours flew by and Jamison eventually tightened his last bolt to get the little water heater working. Now he was ready for a good hot bath.

Just as he was wiping off his greasy hands with a well used rag, Mako came storming into the basement, feet slamming down on each wooden step dangerously. “Jamison!” He sounded mad, but even that couldn't ruin Jamison's good mood.

“Got the hot water working again! Sorry it took so long-”

“Upstairs. Now.” 

That tone got Jamison to shut up. His partner didn't just sound annoyed. He sounded downright furious. So, he cautiously followed him up the stairs to see their home had been broken into. Glass littered the floor, their sparse furniture was turned over, all their good, dry food was scattered about. “What the hell happened?!”

Mako glared at Jamison, gesturing to everything. “I don't know?! You tell me! I stepped out hours ago and came back to this!” His arms crossed tightly against his broad chest, looking to his young friend for answers that he clearly didn't have.

He was at a loss for words. He'd been in the basement all day, and barely even heard this happening right over his head. “Maybe… maybe I heard it and thought ya were having a fit…” With some effort, Jamison lifted up Mako's chair and got it pretty close to the spot it used to be in while doing his best to look sorry. 

His memory was terrible, and Mako knew that. From the defeated sigh he heaved, it seemed pretty clear that he had to chalk it up to fact that Jamison just hadn't been aware that their home had been ransacked, directly above him.

“Let's just get this place cleaned up,” he grumbled, starting to help Jamison get everything back in order, though the angry tension lingered.

After a couple hours, they had everything back to normal. The only permanent damage were some scratches and scuffs in the wood, and a broken window. All of their food was also salvaged, except their coffee which was just gone.

The coffee was pretty easy to replace, but glass windows were expensive. Both men decided that boarding it up was the best option in this case. Worried that Jamison might hurt himself nailing the boards up, Mako stayed close and steadied the wood with a safe hold, fingers far from the striking peen.

Surprising only the other man in the room, Jamison was good with a hammer. His strikes were true and strong. Soon enough, everything was mostly back to normal.

Jamison gave a huff and stretched his stringy arms over his head, tossing the hammer by the basement door with a loud clatter. “I'm exhausted. Gonna take a bath and get ta bed.”

Mako stared him down with an almost unbelieving look.

“Wot?! I like baths, just not ice baths.” He wiped his hands off on the front of his shirt and stomped upstairs. The nerve of that guy. Hot water was relaxing and nice.

It also gave him time to think. After drawing himself a nice hot bath, Jamison laid back and splashed water gently over his chest, pondering. Why had someone broken into their home? And why only to mess everything up and take their coffee?

He hated to admit it, but all signs seemed to point to this being a message for what he did to Beth. And more was likely to come. They probably wouldn't rest until he was dead or out of town again. That was a problem because he didn't intend to do either of those things. Maybe he should set up some traps?

Jamison wasn't sure how long he'd been in the tub, but he really only realized it'd been a while when Mako knocked on the door. It was loud, but not nearly as aggressive as usual. “You haven't drowned in there, have you?”

“No! Still kicking!” Jamison reached for his towel and stood up to get out of the tub. Only, he lost his footing and went tumbling over the edge onto his back. “Shit!”

Without announcing himself, Mako rushed in to make sure Jamison hadn't broken his neck in an unfortunate bathroom accident. 

A little dazed, Jamison just had the mind to cover his bits before Mako got close enough to see anything. “I'm alright! Just a little slip.” He didn't need a mirror to tell that his face was bright red with embarrassment, but he laughed it off. When Mako offered a hand to help him up, Jamison just waved him away and sat his boney ass on the hardwood floor, ignoring the huff behind him.

Mako must've decided it wasn't worth the fight, because a short moment later Jamison heard the door click shut. 

The two didn't see each other again until the next morning when Jamison came clunking downstairs. He could actually smell food cooking, and sure enough, there was Mako fixing up a breakfast for himself. “Make coffee?” Jamison asked as he went to fetch his cup. 

The only answer he got was a grunt and an offered kettle. Jamison happily held out his cup, which was filled, but he was also surprised when a bowl of food was shoved his way, too. “For me? Cheers.” He accepted both and went to tuck in at their table.

It wasn't long before Mako joined him with his own meal, reading the paper as usual. Jamison started at him the whole, wondering what had gotten into Mako to want to cook for him. That is, until his big friend had enough and slammed his palm down on the table, sneering at his partner. “What, Fawkes?”

Once it was clear that Mako wasn't going to hurt him, Jamison cleared his throat and said, “Ya don't usually cook for the two of us.” True enough, they usually would make their own meals, and sometimes Jamison would forget to eat, but Mako never seemed to take notice or care.

Another grunt was the answer, Mako seemingly finding that a fair question after mulling it over. “You're too skinny. Should eat more.”

“Aww, ya worried about lil'ol me? Well, little by your standards at least,” Jamison giggled. “Food costs money, which we're running out of. But not to worry, I have a plan. I can make clocks!”

Mako didn’t understand it, as was evident by his expression, but that was fine. Clocks were mostly used by the upper crust citizens. Those who could afford time, as people said. Jamison used to find broken ones and modify them to make time bombs. They were actually pretty easy make, if you knew how. 

After finishing his food, Jamison hurried to the door, pulling on his coat. “Going out!” And with that, he was gone and Mako could get some quiet time to himself. 

Not that he got much rest, thinking about all the trouble Jamison could get into on his own. It was amazing the skinny prick could keep track of what he was doing at any given time, considering how all over the place he was.

Jamison was gone for hours, only coming home when the sun had nearly set. Not even saying a word, he dropped his coat in a heap by the door and rushed to the basement. He had a plan and he was going to see it through.

Only seeing a blur, Mako picked up the coat and hung it back up, grumbling to himself. Jamison had been holding something, but he moved too fast to see what it was. What was he up to?

By the time he went to bed, Jamison was still working away on… whatever it was he was working on. 

In the morning, Mako got up and pressed his ear to his partner's door. Didn't hearing any snoring, and he usually wasn't up this early. 

Stepping down stairs, it became clear that Jamison was still in the basement. Thumps and clanks could be heard behind the closed door, even without pressing an ear against the wood. 

Shaking his head, Mako went to make food and coffee as was his morning ritual. He could feel a strange relationship growing between them that he wasn't used to. He tried to convince himself that he didn't need to watch after him, that Jamison could just handle himself. And usually Jamison could, when it came to other people, but not with himself. Thin as a pole and forgetful of even eating, his health was a growing concern. It was amazing that Jamison hadn't caught a cold from the canal. 

With a bowl of food and cup of coffee in hand, Mako first knocked, then opened the door to the basement. 

“No! Don't!”

Something slammed into Mako's face, blinding him and making him cough. There was a fine powder in the air and he gasped to try to catch his breath again. That's when the burning started. Mako fell to his knees, coughing and gasping as his throat seemed to close on itself. He could hardly make out Jamison running up the stairs to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took soooooo long. Things have been so up and down the last several months. I actually have been sitting on this for a few months, but I have more ideas and hope to be writing more soon. I love you all!

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to comment!
> 
> My tumblr is http://junkrat-junkie.tumblr.com


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